


sticks and stones won't break these bones

by snowysatoru



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cyril and Holst appear as cameos, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Spoilers for Hilda and Cyril's paralogue, some spoilers for the origins of the Heroes' Relics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27336016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowysatoru/pseuds/snowysatoru
Summary: “You want me to take this with me? Wouldn’t it be better suited in your hands, Holst?”“For the hundredth time, Hilda, yes. I am leaving Freikugel in your hands. I know it sounds absolutely crazy, but you gotta trust me on this.”When acquiring Freikugel as a token of thanks from her family, Hilda isn't ready to deal with the possible consequences as one who can wield a Hero's Relic.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27
Collections: Fodlan Frights Halloween Exchange 2020





	sticks and stones won't break these bones

**Author's Note:**

> This gift was written as a piece for [@endlydraws](https://twitter.com/Endlydraws) on Twitter for the Fodlan Frights Halloween Exchange! Enjoy!

_“You want me to take_ **_this_ ** _with me? Wouldn’t it be better suited in your hands, Holst?”_

_“For the hundredth time, Hilda,_ **_yes_ ** _. I am leaving_ _Freikugel in_ **_your_ ** _hands. I know it sounds crazy, but you gotta trust me on this.”_

_“But Holst, I—”_

_“I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer, Hilda. Listen, I know wielding a Hero’s Relic is a big responsibility; one that’s probably too big for either of us to handle, but Father’s already disappointed in me as is after letting something as silly as a bad mushroom get the best of me. If he found out that you simply refused to take Freikugel, I don’t think either of us will be safe from his wrath, even in his old age.”_

_“… I see. So I guess that leaves me with no other choice, then.”_

_“Does that mean you’ll—“_

_“Yes, Big Brother. I’ll take Freikugel with me, if it’ll make you and Father happy.”_

_“You will?!? Oh, thank you so much, Hilda!You don’t know how much you saved my ass right now!”_

_“It’s the least I can do, Holst. But just remember that you owe me_ **_BIG TIME_ ** _for this when this war is over.”_

_~~~_

Hilda spends the trip from Goneril territory to Garreg Mach in silence, much to the surprise of everyone.

Her grip on Freikugel is strong and firm; as if it was a perfect match for her. Though she can wield it with ease, the axe feels heavy in her hands; as if it was made from entirely of nothing but the sturdiest of stones and metal.

Giving it a good, long stare, Hilda’s gaze focuses on the crest stone; the crest of House Goneril carved within it, its glow shining and fading and in a peculiar rhythm. One that was practically identical to the quiet _ba-dump, ba-dump_ of a heartbeat; like the weapon itself was sentient, had a mind of its own, and could breathe.

And to say that Hilda was slightly unsettled by that possibility was a massive understatement. So she tears her gaze away before she dwelled on that thought longer than necessary. This was something that she’ll have to deal with later.

~~~

Hilda was finishing a conversation with Byleth when she hears someone calling her name. Turning around to see who the voice belonged to, Hilda sees Cyril running up to her.

“Hey, Hilda!” Cyril calls out.

“Oh, Cyril,” Hilda replies. “I didn’t see you there. Did you need me for something?”

“Nah, nothing much, I just wanted to see how you doin’, is all. You get to see your brother and talk to him?”

“I did. Though thinking about it now, I think it would’ve been better if I hadn’t…”

“What makes ya say that?”

“Well, for one thing, he was really ill when we talked; seeing him so pale and haggard like that certainly wasn’t the prettiest sight to see, for lack of a better term…”

“That must’ve been rough. Did you find out what got him sick like that?” Cyril asks.

“From what my parents told me, apparently he got some food poisoning from some mushrooms before the battle. What a fool… but I digress. When I told him about how we handled everything, he was just _showering_ me with praise. I tried to tell him that I had some help, but he just wouldn’t listen. And then it spiraled into a whole other conversation that I don’t even want to talk about.”

“Sounds like he must’ve been a handful to deal with.” Cyril comments.

_‘You have_ ** _no idea_** _…’_ Hilda wants to say, but chooses to remain quiet.

“Anyway,” Cyril starts talking again. “What’s that thing you’re holding on to? Looks like one heck of an axe you got there.” His eyes are focused on Freikugel, which Hilda was holding behind her.

“Oh, this old thing?” Hilda lets out a bit of weak laughter, adjusting her hold so that Cyril could have a better look. “It’s a magic axe called Freikugel. It’s the Hero’s Relic of House Goneril. My brother gave it to me as a token of gratitude, since the Crest I bear will allow me to use it to its full potential.”

“Wow, sounds like he trusts ya a lot, handing it over to you.” Cyril tells her. 

“I guess you could say that,” Hilda remarks.

“Do you know what you’re gonna do with it?”

“Well, I was thinking about handing it over to Professor Byleth, but they’d probably insist that I hold onto it instead. So, to be honest, Cyril… I don’t even know myself.”

“What makes you say that, Hilda?”

“This probably sounds absolutely ridiculous, but… there’s just something about this axe that feels… _surreal_. I don’t know how else to describe it. It’s as if the weapon itself is looking into my soul. Plus, if you look closely, parts of the axe are _pulsating;_ like it’s _alive!_ Talk about _gross!”_

“I guess that _is_ a little unsettling…” Cyril agrees.

“I know! I just find it absolutely repulsive!” Hilda complains. “I don’t know what my brother was thinking when he—“

**_‘Gross? Repulsive? Is that any way to speak about the blood on your hands, girl?’_ **

Hilda blinks, stopping mid-sentence as she hears something. A voice, to be more specific.

**_‘You would know better than to talk of me in that tone, descendant of those detestable 10 Elites..._ ’**

Hilda blinks again, trying to process whatever she had just heard was actually real or if it was just her mind playing tricks on her. She couldn’t tell the difference.

“Hilda?” Cyril asks. “You okay there?”

“Huh?” Hilda blurts out, being pulled back into reality.

“You sounded like you were about to say something, but you just… stopped.”

“Oh…” Hilda clears her throat, trying to play it cool and not like she was in the midst of a rant. “Well, then. I suppose I should be on my way then. Thank you again for the help out there, Cyril. I appreciate it.”

And just like that, Hilda is out before Cyril could even respond.

~~~

_When Hilda falls asleep that night, she has a dream. She doesn’t know why or how; but in this dream, she finds herself in a place that is unfamiliar, yet familiar at the same time._

_Opening her eyes, she realizes that she is no longer in her dorm room at Garreg Mach, but rather… a canyon. One that shared characteristics to the one she and the rest of the Golden Deer travelled to five years ago when the class was ordered to clear out the rest of those bandits._

_She walks around the canyon for some time— the stone ground cold and rough on her feet. Hilda continues walking in some sort of direction until she comes across what appears to be an ancient city of sorts. Letting curiosity get the better of her, she wanders deeper into the canyon’s depths, getting a better glimpse of this “city”._

_At first, it was an almost identical resemblance to the world that she was born in raised in; she could see structured buildings, a town square, and many living beings — in both human and dragon form alike — roaming the streets. Though most of the buildings we made of stone and marble, the city’s landscape also felt lush and rich, thanks to the bits of greenery that was scattered about._

_It was as if Hilda had jumped into one of many textbooks about Fodlan’s history that was hidden within the bookshelves of Garreg Mach’s library; like she had travelled back in time and into the past._

_But before Hilda could take it all in; however, a bright light shined before her, as if she was being teleported somewhere else. And when she was able to regain her bearings, the scenery in front of her had taken a turn for the worst._

_Rather than the rich green that flourished the streets, all Hilda could see was red. The color of blood that littered the streets as the people were slain by what appeared to be a group of bandits. However, this was no ordinary group of thugs and rouges._

_Upon a closer look, this was the army of The King of Liberation himself; the army led by Nemesis himself. And the weapon he wielded was on that was all too familiar._

_But Nemesis wasn’t the only one who possessed such a weapon. All around, Hilda spotted more and more weapons made from the bones of those who had been slaughtered: The Heroes’ Relics, and the 10 Elites who had taken hold of such tools of destruction._

_She was witnessing the horror that was in front of her very eyes; she was witnessing the seeds that sowed Fodlan’s blood-soaked history that had been so well-hidden by the Church._

_Against better judgment, she opened her mouth to scream; yet nothing came out. Shocked, frustrated, and horrified all at the same time, Hilda attempted to yell out once more. Alas, it was to no avail, as the world before her continued to move; and here she stood, unable to stop it._

_Amidst the chaos, though, Hilda heard footsteps not too far from where she was. She gulped as the footsteps grew louder and louder; approaching her in just a matter of time. Turning around to see who was behind her, Hilda found herself face-to-face with who appears to be one of Nemesis’ officers, blood-soaked axe in hand and ready to strike her down. An axe made of what was once a wing; or maybe a spine._

_But then Hilda got a better look at said axe, and the realization hits her like a Thoron spell to the face._

_The weapon that the stranger was in possession of was none other than Freikugel. Which could only mean that…_

_It meant that Hilda was standing before Goneril of the 10 Elites; her ancestor._

_And before she could even begin to process everything, the voice she heard before was back in full force; booming in her ears as it spoke once more._

**_‘Now do you see, foolish girl? Now do you see the blood-soaked origins of the Heroes’ Relics wielded by your kin?Slaughtering me and my brethren as they stand upon a mountain of corpses and a trail of blood?’_ ** ****

_Hilda opened her mouth to try and argue, but it was to no avail; as she was still unable to speak in this dream._

_So all she could do was stand there hopelessly as the dream version of her ancestor continued to approach her._

**_‘You’ve learned of the pain and suffering you and your ilk have brought, and now you will face the consequences of your actions.’_ ** ****

But Hilda never did face such punishment. Because the moment the Goneril had raised their axe and began to swing it in Hilda’s general direction, she woke up; a strained gasp leaving her lips as her eyes shot wide open.

Sitting up slowly so that she didn’t get too dizzy, Hilda looked around her room in an attempt to regain any sense of her surroundings. Realizing that she was back in the comfort of her dorm room and in the canyons of Zanado, she lets out an immense sigh of relief.

However, that relief was short-lived when she hears a knock on her door; the sound suddenly too loud for her ears as she jumped from where she was sitting in her bed a little.

“Hilda,” a familiar voice calls out from the other side of the door.

“W-Who’s there?” Hilda asks, still alarmed.

“It’s just me, Marianne. Are you alright? It sounded like you were screaming just now?”

“I-I’m fine, Marianne!” Hilda responds. “J-Just a bad dream, is all…”

“Do you mind if I come in?” Marianne asks. “Maybe there’s something I can do to help…”

“O-Okay,” Hilda replies.

Seconds pass and Marianne enter the room, closing the door behind her. When she sees how Hilda is trembling in her bed and how tightly she’s gripping onto the bedsheets, Marianne wastes no time in striding over to her side; ready to lend a helping hand.

“Goodness, Hilda,” Marianne gasps. “You look so pale; and you’re shaking! What happened?”

“I just…” Hilda begins, trying to not let the shakiness bleed through into her voice. “I… I had a nightmare.” Hilda confesses, too afraid to look Marianne in the eyes.

“A nightmare?”

“Yeah… and it was a really bad one too, at that…”

“Hilda, that’s awful…”

_‘’Awful’ would be an understatement of the century…’_ Hilda wants to tell Marianne, but realizing that this wasn’t the scenario to say anything slightly snarky (especially when Marianne was being genuine in trying to help her the best she can), so she remains silent. And when Marianne reaches out and cups Hilda’s cheek with one hand, Hilda can’t help but lean into the touch; the warmth of Marianne’s hand offering her some solace.

“Hilda, if it’s okay with you, do you… would you mind explaining what your nightmare was like?”

Hilda’s body freezes slightly at Marianne’s words, looking at her as if she’d seen a ghost.

“I-I don’t want to force any answers out of you,” Marianne continues. “But if you feel comfortable enough to share whatever you saw with me… I’m more than glad to lend a listening ear.”

“I-It’s okay, Marianne,” Hilda assures Marianne. “You’re not forcing anything out of me, It’s just that… I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Wherever you feel is right.”

“Alright then. Now let’s see… I’ll ask this first, then. Do you know how you said that you had bad dreams in regards to your own crest, Marianne?”

“I-I do.”

“Well, something similar happened to me. Ever since I helped out my family and they gave me out Hero’s Relic as a token of thanks, there’s been… something about it that’s unsettled me. It felt like the weapon was… _alive,_ or something of that nature. And the nightmare I had just felt so… _real._ I was in Zanado; I stumbled across an ancient city, and everybody— humans _and_ dragons alike— were living together. But then… then I saw so much _red_. The blood; the flames; the bodies of innocent people getting killed, it was all so much… And then this voice in my head started telling me about the blood of my ancestors on my hands. As if I was some _monster…_ I attempted to argue and say otherwise, but I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t defend myself, no matter how much I wanted to… That’s all I can remember before I woke up…”

“Hilda… that sounds horrifying…”

“It was…”

The room around them is silent — save for Hilda’s breathing as she tries to get it even again. Wrapping her arms around Hilda’s shaky figure, Marianne holds Hilda close to her; Hilda resting her head on Marianne’s shoulder like a pillow.

The two of them stay like this for what feels like hours (even though in reality, it was probably just a couple of minutes); Marianne holding Hilda while she gently combs her fingers through the long locks of her pink hair.

“Marianne,” Hilda finally speaks up after a while, voice muffled from where she’s resting on Marianne’s shoulder.

“Yes, Hilda?” Marianne asks back.

“I’m not a monster, right?”

“Hilda…”

“Just… just answer the question for me, okay?”

“Of course not, Hilda. You’re not a monster, and you’ll never be one. Whoever told you that you were one in your nightmare is wrong.”

“Marianne…”

“I wish I could explain it better than I am right now, but what I’m telling you is the truth. I’m still not the best with words, but I hope you can understand what I’m trying to say.”

“I… I… don’t know what to say…”

“It’s okay, Hilda. You don’t have to force yourself to say anything if you’re not ready yet.”

Hilda gives a hum of affirmation as her answer.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Marianne answers. “You must be very tired right now; I should probably leave so you can get some sleep.”

Marianne moves to detach herself from Hilda, but lets out a gasp of surprise when Hilda has her in a firm grasp.

“H-Hilda—!”

“Stay with me for a little longer, Marianne,” Hilda softly pleads. “I apologize for being selfish but I’d like it if you’re here with me. I-If that’s okay with you, of course.”

Letting her actions speak for her, Marianne adjusts their position so that she and Hilda were comfortable enough on Hilda’s bed. While it was a cramped fit— as the bed itself wasn’t really accustomed for more than one person — Hilda and Marianne made it work.

When they finished repositioning themselves, Marianne hummed a lullaby of sorts while she resumed combing her fingers through Hilda’s hair as if to lull her to sleep. It worked, as Hilda is fast asleep in just a matter of minutes; snuggling into Marianne as to make herself more comfortable.

Feeling herself getting a little sleepy as well, Marianne whispers a quiet ‘sleep well’ before dozing off as well.

Luckily, the nightmares didn’t come back to haunt Hilda in her sleep. For now, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you all had a fun and safe Halloween this year!


End file.
